


The First Christmas

by Princess_Aleera



Series: The Mute!Cas Verse [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AR/AU, Ableism, Bobby is secretly a softie, Christmas!fic, Did I mention fluff?, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Lurv, M/M, Mute Castiel, Porn, Presents!, So so much fluff, Tattoos, awesome!Sam, happy tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Aleera/pseuds/Princess_Aleera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean and Cas (with Sam, and Bobby) celebrate their first Christmas. Not just in Grass Valley, but the first proper Christmas any of them have had since Dean was three years old.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're Abominable Socially

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where there is snow, gift shopping, and ableism._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Ableism. Needless to say, the author does not agree with, or condone, any ableist opinions expressed within.

“You forgot your scarf.”

Cas huffs and gives him a glare that’s probably meant to seem annoyed, but the red tinges in his cheeks just makes it adorable. Not that Dean will ever say that, of course.

“Here.” Dean takes the fluffy grey wool scarf out of the hallway closet, and loops it around Cas’s head a couple of times. Cas pushes it down so his nose and mouth are free, and Dean kisses him just because. “You ready to go?”

Cas nods, and they get out and into the car. The drive to town is short, just under twenty minutes, and as soon as Dean parks, Cas is out in the snow like an excited little puppy. Dean chuckles and follows.

There’s a small park nearby, Green Park- though it’s mostly white today- and Cas is heading for it now. He’s got a minor limp, but he doesn’t need his crutch anymore and he’s told Dean his arm barely aches. They’ve got just over a week left before the cast is off, and another week before it’s Christmas. Dean still hasn’t bought any presents yet. He doesn’t know what to get Cas, and that bothers him more than he he’d like. He could justify it to himself saying that Cas probably hasn’t thought much about it either, but Dean knows for a fact that his angel has been working on a project behind Dean’s back. He doesn’t want to get Cas something cheap or easy- he wants to find something that really matters.

Jesus, if his past self could’ve heard him think- or even Sammy. Dean cringes mentally.

He wanders after Cas, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his winter coat, watching his man bend down to make a mini-snowman by the little pathway they’re walking on. Cas turns to grin at Dean, and Dean grins back. _Is it silly if I make a snow angel?_ Cas signs, and Dean laughs.

“Go wild, Cas.”

So Cas flops down in the snow, which is barely two inches thick, and flaps his arm and legs carefully. It looks absolutely ridiculous. When he’s done, he carefully eases his way out of the snow print and jumps back, leaving the one-winged snow angel intact. He bends over and pulls his mitten off with his teeth to make a small halo over the snow angel’s head.

“Looking good,” Dean says, barely managing not to laugh out loud, and comes to stand behind him. Cas leans into his touch lightly and sighs.

_I didn’t have a halo, you know. Not in the traditional way humans depict it._

Dean can sense Cas’s melancholia creeping up on him, so he just kisses Cas’s neck. Doesn’t ask what the halo looked like, though he wants to know. “C’mon. D’you wanna go look for a present for Sammy? I already got him something, but apparently he’s being a little bitch and getting us a _couple’s_ present, so it’s only fair we give him one for both of us.” Actually, he hasn’t bought Sam’s present yet, but he wants it to be a secret from Cas too. He bets Cas is one of those people who are just as excited about other people’s presents as his own.

Cas turns and smiles at him, looking surprised. _Couple?_

Dean swallows hard when he realizes what he just said. “… yeah. Couple.” When they start walking again, Dean makes a choice. He takes Cas’s hand in his own, entwines their fingers, and squeezes lightly.

Cas looks down at their hands with a puzzled expression, though a smile is curling on his lips.

“Oh, shut up,” Dean mutters, and Cas laughs that awesome, silent laugh of his. They walk through the park like a ‘normal’ couple, nodding lightly at the people they meet, and their hands stay entwined the whole time. The thought makes Dean _want_ to panic, but he doesn’t actually feel uncomfortable. Just… like there’s a spotlight at him. He looks over at Cas, who is practically shining there he walks.

Okay, so maybe Dean can live with the occasional spotlight if it makes Cas look like that.

They stride past a series of small shops, Cas peering excitedly at the window displays, Dean half-interested by his side. They finally end up going into a store- Joey’s- that seems like a strange mix between a hardware store, a grocery shop and a library. The upper floor is filled with books, the downstairs with foods and all kinds of stuff. They walk around for a bit, until Cas finds a strange kind of lamp and taps excitedly on the package.

“A lamp? We’re getting Sammy a _lamp_?” Dean asks, incredulous. “And here I thought you didn’t have humor, Cas.”

Cas elbows him in the ribs and taps the info part. Dean obediently picks the package up to read.

‘Energy light therapy lamp’, it says, which doesn’t tell Dean much except it probably is a really good lamp. “Again I ask; lamp?”

Cas sighs. _It’s for use in the winter months and when you’re tired. The light gives you extra energy, makes you wake up in the morning. Like coffee._

“Oh,” Dean says, still clueless.

Cas rolls his eyes. _For Sam’s studies._

“Oh. Oh! Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Dean acknowledges. He knows how Sam’s prone to sit up all night with his homework, and a miracle might help out there. If it helps keep the caffeine level down, Dean’s glad.

And when exactly did he start giving a damn about his brother’s _caffeine_ level? Jesus.

They end up buying the lamp, and also a new sketchbook for Cas. Dean’s pretty sure Cas is gonna start up painting or something soon, because the angel’s been sketching constantly in his small notebook for the last couple of weeks. Cas refuses to show Dean the images, though, and Dean’s curious. Then again, it’s probably got something to do with Heaven and the life Cas led before the Winchesters helped tear him out of Heaven, and Dean isn’t sure he want to tackle that bout of issues just yet. Not before Cas gives him the green light, anyway.

It’s colder when they get back out, even if it’s only afternoon, and Cas shivers in his thick winter coat. Dean steers them in the direction of a nearby Starbucks. On the way they pass a jewelry store, and Dean sees Cas glance at it before he looks at Dean, then straight forward. Like he’s afraid Dean would think Cas was checking out something in particular and be freaked out. Which- oh. _Oh_.

Dean hadn’t thought of that. Huh.

They get inside the coffee shop, the warmth of the inside blasting them in the face. Cas’s cheeks and nose tip heat up instantly, taking on a bright, red, healthy tinge, and he takes his seat at a small table by the window, Dean getting in line.

“What can I getcha?” the teenager behind the counter asks, long hair in a ponytail and two piercings in each eyebrows. He gives Dean a grin.

“One grande chai latte, extra spiced, whipped cream on top… and a regular black coffee, venti.”

“Anything else?” the guy asks as he writes the orders on two paper cups.

Dean glances at the display of cakes, cupcakes and sandwiches. “Um… One piece of strawberry shortcake and a Belgian waffle.”

“Comin’ right up,” Ponytail Guy says, and Dean pays before he goes back to their table.

Cas smiles at him, hair mussed after he’s taken off his long scarf, and his good hand is on the table. It’s placed so that Dean can take it if he wants to, but it’s not weird if he doesn’t. Dean notices, though he’s not sure if Cas is doing is subconsciously or by purpose. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabs Cas’s hand again.

Cas’s smile turns shy and content.

“One chai latte,” Ponytail Guy says and puts the tea down between them, “and a coffee. I’ll get your cakes in a sec.” He goes back to get the calorie bombs, before putting them on the middle of the table as well (as if he knows they’re gonna share them). “Enjoy!” he says in that entirely too cheerful voice most coffee house patrons have, before leaving them alone.

Cas lets go of Dean’s hand to take a sip of his chai, the two of them enjoying the relative silence for a while. The other people in the bar are talking animatedly, more people coming and leaving constantly, making a cold breeze from the outside waft over them every now and then.

 _On Monday,_ Cas signs after a while, _it’s been nine months._

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. He knows. He hasn’t forgotten- hasn’t stopped counting the days just yet. “How’s… y’know. Whaddya think about that?” Fuck if he’s gonna ask how Cas is _feeling_ about it, but he’s still curious.

Cas’s eyes turn fond. _I don’t know. Compared to the rest of my life, I haven’t had too long to think about it._ He takes another sip when he’s done signing, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of his favorite hot beverage. _Then again, everything seems to go much slower now. Hard to think sometimes._

“Yeah,” Dean says and reaches up to stroke a thumb across Cas’s soft, warm cheek. “It can be like that for the rest of us too.”

Cas smiles, and then a middle-aged, smiling woman walks up to them.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice,” she chirps, and the two of them stare up at her. “Is he mute of deaf?” It’s directed at Dean, her big face split into a big smile.

Dean glances at Cas, who looks a little taken aback but smiles uncertainly. “He’s just mute, ma’am,” he says, the words coming out a little more chilled than he’d hoped, “so he can hear you just fine.”

“Oh!” She’s wearing a dark brown fur coat and a small hat, steel grey curls forming a weird sort of halo around her face. Her lipstick is such a dark shade of red it’s almost violet, and she peers curiously at Cas. “Helloo,” she says, mouthing clearly. “How aaare you.”

Cas looks like he’s not sure how to respond to that, but finally takes his notepad out of his pocket and writes _I’m fine, thank you_. The handwriting’s clumsy, because his left hand is not his strong one, but it’s readable. Cas has had some practice these last seven weeks.

“Oh, would you look at that!” The woman says, like she’s never seen a notepad in her life. Dean clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say anything yet. “How adorable! Whaat’s yooour naaame?”

“Like I _said_ , ma’am,” Dean bites out, “he can hear you just fine. There’s no need to talk over-clearly.”

“How nice it must be for him,” she chirps and smiles sweetly at Dean, like she didn’t even hear him speak, “that you take him out every now and then. I just _hate_ those stories when they coop them up inside and hide them from the world, don’t you?”

Cas’s smile falters. He looks like he’s been struck, and Dean has to resist punching the woman. “ _Excuse_ me?” he snarls, and she blinks in surprise. “Did you not hear a word I said? He’s _mute_ , not an invalid! There is _nothing_ wrong with him!” He’s vaguely aware that he’s standing, that he’s yelling, and that everyone in the coffee house is staring at him- including Ponytail Guy from behind the counter- but he can’t quite bring himself to give a fuck. “And yeah, I hate those stories when people who are different gets stuffed away and hidden. You know what else I hate? When bigoted, oh-so-normal people like _you_ pretend you know _anything_ about us, pretend that you actually _give_ a fuck, and that you don’t just want an excuse to tell your friends about ‘that cute little mute freak’ you met the other day!”

She stares at him, mouth open, chest heaving like it’s she who’s been yelling and not him. “How _dare_ you!” she finally snarls and turns on her heels to storm out of the shop, the rest of the guests’ eyes on her. When she’s gone, they go back to staring wide-eyed at Dean.

“Oh fuck off, show’s over,” he growls, and the ones with decency look away with a slightly guilty expression. Ponytail Guy goes back to making coffee.

Dean sits back down and turns to Cas. “Hey. Hey, you.”

Cas is trembling slightly, staring down at his notepad with glassy eyes. His face is hard and stiff, the way it only is when he’s about to start crying, and Dean knows he’ll never forgive himself if he lets Cas break down in the middle of the coffee shop.

He grabs Cas’s hand to drag him across the shop. The Starbucks has one tiny restroom for men and one for women, and Dean slips both of them in before locking the door. “Hey, it’s okay, Cas.”

Cas’s lip trembles, Dean pulls him close and his angel lets out a distressed wheeze. He buries his face in Dean’s flannel shirt, and Dean feels the wetness there after a moment. Cas sobs silently, as always, shoulders barely heaving, and Dean puts a hand on the back of his neck and holds, just holds. He knows Cas will tell him, eventually.

They stand like that for a while, Dean pressed up against the sink. The porcelain digs into his lower back and Cas’s tears are making his shirt sticky on the left shoulder, but Dean just murmurs a couple of soothing words and kisses his angel’s temple. Finally Cas stills and shifts, and Dean feels hot and uneven breath ghost across the side of his neck. “Feel better?”

Cas pulls back and shakes his head, but he’s stopped crying. His face is puffy, eyes sore from where they’ve been pressed against Dean’s shirt, and the man rubs them in an almost irritated motion. Like he’s embarrassed, which is bullshit.

“Here, lemme,” Dean murmurs and gets some drying towels. He wets them slightly in the sink, and dab them across Cas’s face to reduce the swelling and redness. It doesn’t bother him, but he knows Cas doesn’t want everyone in the coffee house to know he’s been crying. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.”

 _It’s been a long time,_ Cas signs tiredly, staring at Dean’s shirt while Dean cleans up his face, _since someone has made me feel like there was something wrong with me. Less than human._

Dean sighs as his stomach drops. Yeah. Yeah, he can see that. “That woman? Was a fucking bitch, Cas. She has no idea. I mean, did you _hear_ the way she talked to you?!” He’s nearing shouting-volume again, and takes a deep breath.

Cas nods, but he still looks miserable and his eyes are still shiny. _Is it so hard to talk to me?_

“No. It’s not. All she had to do was act like a decent human being, and treat _you_ like one. Now I dunno ‘bout you, Cas, but I don’t find that so goddamn hard.” Dean throws the paper towel in the bin with more force than necessary. “You ready to go out there again?”

Cas shakes his head. _Wait_.

“Whatever you say, Cas.” Dean curls a hand in his angel’s hair and pulls him close again. Cas tastes salty from the tears, and sweet and spicy from the tea. He opens up for Dean immediately, seeking comfort. Cas presses closer, hands gripping Dean’s sides to keep him close. When Dean pulls back, the only visibly swollen parts of Cas’s face are his lips. “There’s nothin’ wrong about you, Cas. Nothin’. And the next person that says so, I’mma punch the living daylights out of.” Cas doesn’t get the reference, but he manages a small smile. Good enough for now, Dean thinks and kisses him on the forehead. “Ready?”

Cas nods and takes his hand, and they walk back out. They don’t look at the other people in the coffee house as they sit down, though Dean can feel their eyes on them. He calmly sips his coffee and eats the rest of his waffle, while Cas munches on his piece of cake. They’re sitting a bit closer than before, and the mood isn’t what it was, but Cas looks okay now. He does.

Ponytail Guy walks up to them and Dean’s sharp eyes are on him in an instant, daring him to say anything about his little outburst. But the guy just puts down a bowl of vanilla ice cream on the middle of their table, whipped cream and chocolate sauce on top, two spoons next to the bowl. “On the house,” he says quietly and walks back behind the counter without another word.

Dean looks at Cas. Cas is staring at Ponytail Guy with wide eyes and something like pride. It’s the same kind of expression he had as an angel, a couple of times- a sense of doing the right thing. If Dean liked chick-flick talk, he’d say Cas just got a little of his faith in humanity back.

Sensing that Cas is about to have another minor breakdown-moment, this one out of gratitude, Dean opts for steering them both onto firmer ground. “Ice cream!" he says, loudly. "Awesome.” He grabs one of the spoons and grins at Cas, before it turns into a smirk. “Don’t make me feed you, Cas.”

Cas grins back at him, eyes twinkling again, and Dean writes a mental note to come back here alone later and give Ponytail Guy one hell of a tip. _Well_ , Cas signs, _I do have a broken arm. I need help._

“You fucking girl,” Dean chuckles and feeds Cas a piece of ice cream. Then he grabs Cas’s neck and pulls him into a dirty kiss, licking the vanilla and chocolate taste out of his angel’s mouth, and he fucking _hopes_ everyone in this bar fucking sees what he’s doing to Cas right now, because no bigoted fucking assholes are gonna fuck with Dean Winchester’s boyfriend and get away with it.

Ponytail ignores them and keeps making coffee, mouth curved up in an amused smile.

~*~


	2. You're Abominable Socially

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where they buy a tree and Dean understands the metaphor._

It’s the 18th of December, and Dean’s buying a Christmas tree for the first time in his life. An actual, fucking non-plastic _tree_.

Playing house is fucking awesome at times.

He and Cas are browsing, looking at the trees. Cas keeps touching them, running his fingers lightly over the frosted branches, careful so they won’t prickle him. They’ve looked at nearly every tree in the sale area, and Cas has yet to sign a word. Dean doesn’t ask, because he’s secretly amused by his angel wandering around the pen, eyes bright and wondrous as if he’s never seen a tree in his life before.

When they’ve reached the end and tall, beautiful trees are surrounding them on all sides, Cas turns to kiss him. It’s a deep kiss, but sweet and slow, and Dean’s taken by surprise. “What’s that for, Cas?” he asks when Cas pulls back, chuckling.

Cas just shrugs and grins. _Which one is your favorite?_

“My tree? Um, I dunno. There’s a lotta nice trees here.” Dean looks around.

Cas drags him over to one of the smaller trees, tossed to the side in a heap of browned, dying trees. The tree’s beautiful, mostly, but there’s a bald patch on one side where it looks like someone got a little too close with a chainsaw. _What about this?_ Cas asks and runs his hand over the bald patches, the cold wood scarred white.

Dean senses a Big Moment coming up, and isn’t sure how to respond. “Um… it’s nice? Any particular reason you wanted this one?”

Cas brushes away some of the snow from the tree’s higher branches. _It’s beautiful,_ he signs, clearly happy to be able to use both hands again now that the damn cast is off. _It’s been damaged, but it’s still beautiful._

Ah. Dean’s smile turns fond, and he sneaks an arm around Cas’s waist. “I think we should take it,” he murmurs into Cas’s hair, lips and nose tip getting wet from the melting snowflakes still clinging to the dark strands.

‘Yeah?’ Cas mouths as he turns around, looking like his Christmas is made already.

“What’s not to like about it?” Dean murmurs, and the knowledge of Cas’s scarred back under his hands, beneath four layers of clothes, does not escape him. “ ‘s perfect.”

Cas pets the tree once more, and then he’s dragging Dean over to the salesman on the other side of the pen, undoubtedly afraid that someone else will claim ‘their tree’ before them. Dean doesn’t tell him that normal people wouldn’t want that tree, because he knows that Cas knows. Besides, they’re not normal people.

They end up paying half price for it, because of the damage, which means a little more money for the Christmas dinner. To Dean, that’s the most important part. _Finally_ a Christmas that doesn’t constitute of greasy burgers and cheap booze. Not that there’s anything wrong with burgers on any other day of the year, but he really looks forward to eating something… traditional this Christmas. Something normal.

“You mentioned you wanted to cook, right?” Dean says on the ride back home, with the tree strapped to the Impala’s roof. He would have made a bigger fuss about the potential of scratches on her roof, but she hasn’t seen a normal Christmas since Dean was three years old. He thinks she’ll like it just as much as him and Sam.

Cas nods eagerly. It’s not something they’ve discussed at all, but Dean knows Cas loves the process of cooking. Likes planting flowerbeds and a small vegetable garden, likes going on their shared laptop every once in a while to browse through online recipes. Cas even has a small herb garden in a corner of the kitchen, under a small lamp so they’ll get enough ‘sun’.  
“I mean, me and Sam will help, of course,” Dean points out. “But we’ll need someone in charge.”

Cas nods again, repeatedly, a big grin on his face. Dean huffs and looks at the road, grinning as well.

Dean puts the tree in its foot as soon as they come home, Cas balancing it so it ends up straight. They have to let it dry in the living room until tomorrow before they can decorate it, but that’s fine. Dean’s taken tomorrow off from the auto repair, so he only has a shift at the hospital. They re-heat microwave pizza and sit in the couch that’s turned towards the middle of the room, and stare at their tree.

 _I almost feel bad about decorating it,_ Cas signs, already full and sleepy. He snuggles against Dean’s side, Dean’s arm casually slung around his slender shoulders. _It’s beautiful as it is._

“You’re not gonna regret it once we start, Cas,” Dean chuckles. “You’ll love the glitter and shit.”

Cas chuckles with him and presses his nose against Dean’s throat, nuzzling lightly. His fingers slip underneath Dean’s t-shirt, feeling the skin there. It’s a lazy movement, not necessarily sexual, just a caress. Something Cas does to remind himself, Dean suspects, though he’s not sure what it should remind Cas _of_.

“You’re awfully handsy today,” he comments without heat. They both know he kinda likes that.

 _Content_ , Cas signs one-handedly, still nosing Dean’s clavicle. _It’s my first Christmas._

“Yeah, they can be fun when they don’t suck,” Dean acknowledges. “It’ll be nice to, y’know. Gather the family.”

 _What’s left,_ Cas signs, his eyes turning haunted around the edges.

“Yeah,” Dean says and leans a little more against Cas’s side. They fall into a contemplative silence, Dean remembering all the ones they lost to get here. He knows Cas is doing the same; mourning his and Dean’s friends as well as his fallen brothers and sisters. Dean spares an extra thought to Gabriel and Balthazar.

 _I miss so many_ , Cas signs after a long while, pulling back, his eyes taking on that old gaze Dean seldom sees anymore, after the angel’s fall.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, hot puffs of breaths ghosting over Cas’s face. “But we’re still left. I guess that counts for something.” His thumb skims across Cas’s collarbone, just barely feeling the pulse there.

 _It counts as everything,_ Castiel signs and tucks his head back under Dean’s chin.

They sit in quiet until Cas falls asleep against Dean’s frame, and the candles on the table all burn out.

~*~


	3. It's A Wonderful Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where they celebrate Christmas, and there’s awesome food and shitty movies._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes art made by pro_kira on LiveJournal for this !verse. :)
> 
> (Ps: the words Cas signas mean 'you are wicked'. )

  
[ ](http://s1194.photobucket.com/albums/aa371/Princess_Aleera/SPN%20GIFS/?action=view&current=muteCas.gif)   


“Dean.” Sam comes in, glass of eggnog in hand, wearing a grin that’s almost a full-blown laugh. “I think you need to de-freak Cas a little.”

“Jesus,” Dean says, almost managing to hide his own smile, and gets out of the bedroom. He’s still wearing jeans, and his shirt’s only half-buttoned. The dark green tie Cas bought him two days earlier is on the bed, waiting eagerly for him to use it. Dean nods at Bobby as he walks past the living room, the old hunter sitting in the couch with his own glass of eggnog, and peeks into the kitchen. “Cas. Really, there’s no rush. You gotta relax, man.”

Cas signs something at him so fast Dean doesn’t get it, but he thinks it’s the signing equivalent of STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO YOU’RE NOT HELPING GODDAMN HELP ME INSTEAD I’M FREAKING OUT HERE. The man’s covered with stains from sauce, chicken and God knows what else, his hair is in sweaty, greasy spikes and his face is red and glistening. He’s bustling about the kitchen like a headless chicken, stirring pots, chopping vegetables, checking the oven. He makes a strangled sort of half-sound and turns wide, feverish eyes at Dean. _I hate Christmas_ he signs and hitches a breath.

Dean has to laugh. He feels terrible for doing so, but he can’t help it. When Cas looks like he’s about to break down crying, though, he walks over to grasp Cas’s sauce-smeared wrists. “Cas, baby. _Calm. Down._ This ain’t some family you gotta impress- it’s me, and Sam, and Bobby. I haven’t eaten proper Christmas dinner since I was a toddler, Sam only got four semi-normal Christmases on Stanford, and Bobby usually drinks himself into a stupor each year. You ain’t got nothing to prove; even if you end up burning all the food, it’ll still be the best Christmas dinner ever.”

Cas makes a choking sound and mouths something unintelligible against Dean’s neck.

“C’mon, take a deep breath. On three. One, two, three.”

Cas takes a shuddering breath and breathes out slowly. _So silly,_ he signs almost petulantly, still with his face pressed against Dean’s neck, and Dean chuckles.

“You’re allowed to freak, Cas. I’m just telling you there’s no reason to.”

Cas huffs, annoyed, but his breathing’s calmed down. He pulls away and signs _sauce_ , before going back to stirring- making sure nothing’s burned or over-cooked during Dean’s little intervention.

“You want help?” Dean asks, watching him.

_You need to get dressed._

“Sam’ll help. Sammy!”

“Yeah?” The Sasquatch pokes his giant, fluffy-haired head in, grinning at the two of them like a kid on- on Christmas Eve, Dean realizes fondly.

“Help Cas out, would you? I gotta fix my tie.”

“And the jeans,” Sam says and scrunches his nose at Dean, walking into the tiny kitchen to start stirring the sauce Cas has left in favor of re-re-re-checking the potatoes. “The jeans have got to go.”

Cas nods in agreement.

Dean snorts and walks back to the bedroom to get properly changed. He loses the jeans in favor of a pair of dark dress pants, once belonging to one of his many FBI suits. He buttons up the shirt, fixes the collar, and spends fifteen minutes trying to fix his tie and hair, before heading back out. “You kids doin’ okay?”

“We’re fine,” Sam says and grins at him over a plate of steaming _something_. Whatever it’s supposed to be, it smells awesome. “This should be done in about twenty minutes.”

“Need any help, Cas?”

Cas shakes his head, looking distinctly less stressed out than fifteen minutes ago. _I’m gonna change my clothes. Go keep Bobby entertained,_ he signs and grins at Dean.

“Fair enough. Holler if you need me.” He flops down in the couch across from the old hunter, who stares at him.

“You got a nice lil’ place here,” Bobby grunts and looks around.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Dean murmurs. “ ‘s less… I dunno, boring, than I thought it would be. I never pegged myself as the… apple-pie life kinda guy.” He doesn’t say ‘family man’, because they never really talked to Bobby about this, and though Dean knows the hunter knows(Bobby’s not stupid), he really doesn’t want to talk to Bobby about his and Cas’s ‘relationship’. He can barely do it with _Sam_ , for Christ’s sake.

Bobby nods. “You still working at the hospital?”

“Yeah, and the garage. They’ve let me cut back a little on the hours, though, now that we’ve paid down on some of the mortgage.”

“You like it?”

“What, working in the morgue?” Dean lets out a small laugh and grabs the glass with his own, alcohol-free eggnog. “Yeah, it’s nice. I mean, I’ve been ‘round dead people all my life, so it’s not exactly a new thing. Plus, like this I get to keep an eye out for suspicious stuff. And no more grave diggin’, which is always a plus.”

Bobby nods, but the twinkle in his eyes tells Dean that the hunter is pleased. “Cas workin’ yet?”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s been lookin’ at the animal shelter downtown, but then he broke his arm and,” he shrugs, “things got delayed.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Bobby grumbles, and Dean appreciates the subtle reassurance.

They sit in a companionable silence, Bobby sipping his eggnog and looking around the living room, before his gaze finally lands on the brightly colored Christmas tree by the window. It’s almost hidden beneath all the sparkly and glittery decorations, and Dean smiles a little.

“You went all out, huh,” Bobby says with an amused smirk.

“Yeah. Thought we’d give the whole Christmas thing a try.”

“How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

“ ‘s fun. Sam’s out of his goddamn mind with excitement, obviously,” Dean says with a chuckle, pointedly not mentioning how Cas and he himself have been running around the house like little kids for days, decorating and spraying down each other with white glitter.

“Figured as much.” Bobby grins.

“Dinner’s ready!” Sam calls from the kitchen, before he walks in with a large bowl. “Dean, make yourself useful and put on plates and the silverware.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean says and gets up. He finds the cutlery in one of the drawers in the kitchen, making sure not to trip over Cas or Sam, who are now putting on warm food with startling speed. He arranges the cutlery before getting their ‘nice’ plates, a moving-in gift from Sam a couple of months ago, when the kid had just been accepted at Stanford. They have small, seemingly random patterns on them, but Dean’s always thought they look like small wings overlapping each other. He’s never mentioned it to Cas.

“This smells so good!” Sam exclaims as he sits down across Dean, Bobby on his right side. Cas is on Dean’s left and grinning, clearly pleased with what he’s accomplished.

Dean gets it; this looks _awesome._ There’s a roast chicken on the middle of the table, stuffed with herbs and lemon, which smells fucking fantastic. There’s mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, and a bowl filled with stir-fried vegetables that Sam will fucking _love_ because it tastes better than cooked vegetables and is healthier than frying them. “You’re gonna carry me to bed,” Dean exclaims loudly, mostly for Cas’s benefit.

“Not in the likely,” Sam snorts, but Cas beams and goes a little pink around the edges. Dean knows Cas is very self-conscious about his cooking, simply because the concept of food is one of the things he’s had most trouble adapting to when becoming human. Dean’s had to take Cas out to a _lot_ of restaurants before convincing Cas that eating doesn’t have to be a chore- it can be a pleasure. (And the Chocolate Sauce Incident. That was fun too.)

Cas hands Dean the carving knife and fork. “You want me to do it?” Dean asks, and his angel nods eagerly. “Okay. Sammy, you want the first piece?”

“Yeah.” Sam holds out his plate eagerly, and Dean cuts him a large piece. “Not that big, Dean, jesus! I’m supposed to have room for other stuff too!” But Sam doesn’t even stop grinning while he chides, so Dean ignores it. Sam can always use a little extra meat on the bones; all that salad he’s eating can’t be healthy.

Bobby gets the next piece, then Cas (Dean makes sure to make it a big piece), and finally Dean. They send around the potatoes, vegetables and sauce, and then it’s quiet. Only the scrapes of cutlery against plates and chewing is heard, and the odd appreciative noise some of them (mostly Dean) makes. It’s _so good_.

“Damn,” Dean exclaims and digs in. “I’m not gonna have room for pie.” Sam and Cas snorts at him and he grins back, mouth stuffed with chicken and mashed potatoes. “Okay, s’ that’s a lie.”

“For a guy who’s not used to eatin’, you sure can cook, Cas,” Bobby says in agreement, and Cas turns a lovely shade of dark pink. He signs _thanks_ and Bobby gets it, even though the old hunter doesn’t know jack squat about sign language.

The rest of the meal is mostly in silence, but it’s a comfortable silence. More than that, it’s _content_ , and Dean finds himself thinking that this, right here, must be why everyone thinks Christmas is such a fucking big deal. Being with family, eating and just being around each other.

Jesus, he’s a sap. And he can’t even blame alcohol.

By the time they’re done eating, almost all of the chicken’s gone. But there’s enough left of the mash and vegetables that Dean, Cas and Sam will have leftovers the day after tomorrow, when Bobby goes back home. Dean knows Cas has some other food planned for tomorrow, though he doesn’t know what.

 _There’s pie for later,_ Cas signs when they all lean back in their chairs, uttering similar grunts and groans. It’s the kind of groans that stem from eating so much your stomach hurts, but you’re too full and content to really complain about it.

“Awesome,” Dean gets out, laying a hand on his own bulging stomach. “I think I gotta give it a couple of hours, though. Maybe after the presents.”

“Pie,” Sam grins at Bobby, who’s looking curious. “Cas made pie.”

“What kind’s that?” Bobby asks Cas with a grin.

 _One apple, one pumpkin,_ Cas signs.

“Jesus, apple _and_ pumpkin?” Dean groans. “Are you trying to kill me?”

 _Yes_ , Cas signs and nods triumphantly.

“You’re terrible.”

 _You’re wicked._ Cas tries to look offended and fails miserably.

Sam’s mouth curls into a fond smile at their bantering. It’s less heated than it usually is, mostly because Dean’s too full to string together more than two sentences at a time.

Finally they manage to leave the table, Dean helping Cas to clean up along with Sammy. Bobby’s taken the single chair, and Sam flops down into the two-seater, so Dean and Cas sit down heavily in the bigger couch. Dean sighs in contentment. “This is already the best Christmas ever.”

“The food was delicious, Cas,” Sam says.

Cas signs a thanks before scooting down a little in the couch. He and Dean are touching - not overly boyfriend-y, because Dean’s not really there yet - what with Bobby being in the room and all - but still touching. Knees pressing lightly against the other’s, shoulder’s brushing whenever one of them moves. Dean sees Bobby noticing, but the hunter doesn’t say anything. Dean’s grateful.

“You guys wanna watch some cheesy movie before opening the presents?” Dean asks, and gets some agreeing murmurs from Bobby and Sam. Cas nods, eagerly. He’s seen a few Christmas movies already, since the old classics are sent over and over and _over_ again this time of year, no matter how shitty they are. Cas loves them, though. Fucking dork.

Dean channel surfs, all four pairs of eyes on their humble flatscreen. The first movie they come over is ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’. Cas perks up at the mention of guardian angels.

“ _No_ ,” Dean says. Sam chuckles.

 _Why not?_ Cas signs, barely keeping his pout invisible.

“One, it’s a shit movie,” Dean says. “Two, it’s fucking boring. And three, remember how you wanted to watch Gone With the Wind?”

Cas winces visibly. Sam chokes on a laugh. Bobby just arches an eyebrow at Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean says to Cas. “Exactly.” He zaps on. “Hey, this one’s perfect!”

“We’re not watching Die Hard on Christmas Eve, Dean!” Sam bitches. Or says. Dean thinks he bitches.

“But it’s a Christmas movie!” Dean argues, and Cas pokes him sharply in the ribs and shakes his head. “Aw, c’mon! It’s a classic!”

“One I’ve seen about seventy times, yeah,” Sam says.

Cas grabs the remote control and promptly changes to another sickly-sweet movie. Dean frowns at Kate Winslet chatting with Jack Black, being appropriately cheerful and blushy.

“That’s The Holiday,” Sam points out, because of course Dean’s brother knows all of the chick-flicks. He’s probably seen it too, Dean thinks. “It’s a really good movie, actually.”

Dean snickers to himself.

Cas sends him a look that tells Dean he knows _exactly_ what Dean thinks, and he doesn’t approve. Then he switches again. Football, news report, _another_ channel showing ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’. Then Chevy Chase’s maniacal grin fills the screen, and Dean flinches a little.

“Ugh,” Sam echoes from the other couch, and Bobby chuckles into his eggnog.

“Okay, normally I’d rather be caught dead than watching Chevy fucking Chase,” Dean says, “but I think I can deal with it for one night. What the fuck, it’s Christmas, right?”

“Really, Dean?” Sam whines, but when Dean nods almost imperceptibly at Cas, his little brother frowns and shuts up.

Dean leans over a little, enough that he can whisper straight into Cas’s ear. “Watch this, and see what an awesomely perfect Christmas we have in comparison. And me and Sam’s Christmases used to be _worse_ than this - for different reasons, obviously.” He can’t help pressing a brief kiss to his boyfriend’s ear before leaning back to watch the movie.

Cas looks at him, puzzled, before his eyes go back to the screen.

An hour later and Cas is giggling soundlessly, squirming with delight at how much Chevy manages to fuck up his family’s Christmas. Even Sam, who hates those movies almost as much as Dean, seems to have a good time. Bobby’s asleep in his chair, though Dean doesn’t blame him. The food and Cas’s warmth is making him sleepy too, and for every minute that goes by, he finds himself closer to Cas’s laughing form. Dean feels warm and safe and too full, and his eyes slip shut as Chevy Chase tries to get his Christmas lights working again.

It might not be awesome for normal families, but to Dean, this is pretty much perfect.

And they haven’t even opened the presents yet.

~*~


	4. Satisfied With An Average Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where they celebrate Christmas, and there’s lots and lots of presents._

Dean must have dozed off at some point, because suddenly Cas is poking him in the side. “I wasn’t asleep!” Dean slurs and sits up straighter. He pulled off his tie before he fell asleep, and he’s unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt as well because of the heat. Cas’s tie is rumpled, his hair forever messy. Dean’s arm seems to have wormed itself around Cas’s shoulders while he was sleeping, and he hastily pulls it back. As if Sam and Bobby haven’t had plenty of time noticing.

Cas snorts. _Presents?_ he signs, with an excited little smile. The movie’s over, then.

“Yeah! Yeah, we can do presents, right?” Dean looks at the two other guys.

“Yes!” Sam exclaims and is out of his chair in a matter of seconds, disappearing out into the hallway to get the gifts he brought from Stanford. Cas and Dean get up too, and soon all the presents are scattered on the living room table and the floor. Sam’s thrumming with childish eagerness across from Dean, Cas mirroring him exactly.

“I think we better start soon, Bobby,” Dean mutters, though he can’t hide his own smile. “Otherwise one of the kids might explode from the suspense.”

Bobby snorts. “Like you’re not half a hair ‘way from jumpin’ in your seat too, boy. Here.” He hands Dean a squared, green box, neatly wrapped with a blue bow. It’s… pretty.

Dean looks at it like it’s an alien. “You, uh… did this yourself, Bobby?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bobby snorts. “The lady behind the counter was pretty.”

Dean snorts right back and unwraps his present. “Um, you guys wanna open one as well?” he asks, pausing. He feels a little self-conscious having everyone’s eyes on him- it’s the first time since he was four that he’s gonna have more than two presents. And hopefully some presents that weren’t bought at the local gas station.

“Nah, I wanna see what Bobby got you,” Sam says. Cas nods. Bobby just sits back in the couch, arms crossed and that half-fond, half-exasperated look on his face.

“Oh. ‘kay then.” He fumbles a little with the bow, and in the end just rips off the sparkly green paper to see what’s underneath. And just like that, the minimal awkwardness is gone and replaced with joy. “ _Awesome_!”

“Sorry, Cas,” Bobby says.

“Oh, man,” Sam says and shakes his head. Cas lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Special edition!” Dean says, totally aware that his voice is too loud and excited for a grown-up man. But man, the _Die Hard Quadrilogy. Special. Edition._ “This is so cool!”

“And you’re officially the biggest dork ever,” Sam says.

“Open your present, Francis,” Bobby mutters and throws his present at Sam, who can’t quite hide his excited squawk when he realizes how thick it is.

“It’s a book? It’s a book, isn’t it??”

“Well, open it, ya dimwit,” Bobby says.

Dean immediately feels better about his embarrassing outburst (but seriously, the Die Hard _Quadrilogy_ ) at the sight of Sam. The kid’s not even bothering to get his stupid floppy hair out of his eyes as he rips off the shiny paper.

“Crime and Punishment by Fjodor Dostovjevskij! Oh my God, it’s an original edition! Where’d you _get_ this?” Sam’s spluttering, turning the book over and over in his hands, feeling the leather cover with a look of awe on his face.

Dean snorts. His fucking kid, ladies and gentlemen.

“I know a guy who knows a monster,” Bobby grins. “Here, Cas. I got ya a little sumthin’ too.”

Cas accepts the slim package with something like reverence. It’s not wrapped in sparkly Christmas paper, like Dean’s and Sam’s, but there’s a bright red bow on it. He pulls at the ribbon slowly until it unravels, and brushes his fingers over the black, wrinkly leather material of the small box.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean says, leaning over. “You’re killin’ us over here.”

Cas gives him a small smile and signs at him. _My first Christmas present._

That makes Dean swallow a little hard. “Yeah,” he murmurs, ignoring the questioning look from Bobby. “Yeah, it is.”

Cas opens the box, the lid popping open with a quiet ‘snick’. He gasps, mouth agape as his eyes widen, and Dean just- fucking loves Bobby, okay? He loves him.

“Oh wow,” Sam says, and Dean can practically _hear_ his brother’s inner geek shout in pleasure. “That is so pretty.”

Cas runs his middle finger over the long, thick feather. He’s so careful, barely touching it at all. It’s an old-fashioned quill. The feather is a gorgeous spotty grey, white by the stem and chocolate-colored by the edges. There’s a small ink bottle lying beside it, the box clad on the inside with dark red velvet.

“What kinda bird is it?” Dean asks, voice low.

“Snow owl,” Bobby murmurs. “Found a sick one by my place.”

“You-” Sam splutters. “You made it yourself?”

Bobby shrugs. “I had some help,” he says cryptically.

Cas’s lower lip trembles a little, and his eyes are shiny, but he takes a sharp breath and smiles at the old hunter. _Thank you so much_ , he signs.

“Welcome to the family, Cas,” Bobby nods and looks pleased.

A single tear slips down Cas’s cheek, and he hastily wipes it away, still smiling.

Dean smiles fondly and decides to let him off the hook. “Okay, my turn. Sam, gimme.”

Sam snorts. “Nah, I’ll give you guys your _couple’s_ gift first.” He grins, the little bitch, and pulls up a big, squared package. It’s really heavy.

“What this, Sammy? You buy a rock or something?” Dean sets it down in the couch, between him and Cas, and they open it together. “What… what the _fuck_ , Sammy.”

Sam cackles, like the stupid asshole he is.

 _A waffle maker!_ Cas signs excitedly and scrambles to get the packaging off.

“Sammy!” Dean growls, and his little brother just fucking laughs. Bobby snorts.

Cas pulls out the waffle maker and examines it, practically wriggling with happiness.

A waffle maker. A big, cute, _pink_ waffle maker. Where the waffles you make are _heart shaped_.

“I’m gonna get you for this,” Dean hisses and points an accusing finger at Sam. “No pie for you, Sammy!”

“What?” Sam says, voice light and puppy-eyes in full blaze. “I thought it’d be perfect for you. Right, Cas?”

Cas, by now, has noticed Dean’s bitchface, and is biting his lip to stop grinning. _I like it,_ he offers.

“See, Dean?” Sam says in his most obnoxious voice. “ _Cas_ likes it.”

Dean rolls his eyes and pushes their own, large package towards Sam. “Here, bitch. From me and Cas.”

Cas puts the waffle maker on the floor next to the couch, before shifting a little closer to Dean. His gaze flicks over to Dean, as if he’s asking permission. Dean makes sure to give him a little smile as Sam opens his present.

“Woah, an energy light therapy lamp!” Sam says.

“A what?” Bobby asks.

“It’s a geek lamp,” Dean says.

“You use it when you’re tired,” Sam explains while showing it to Bobby. “It gives you energy, like sunlight does.”

“Interestin’,” Bobby deadpans, but he looks amused.

 _Bobby’s presents?_ Cas asks, and Sam nods.

“Yeah, let’s do them together.”

Dean grumbles under his breath, but pulls out Bobby’s presents from the second last bag on the floor. “Here, Bobby. A little somethin’ from all of us.”

Bobby arches an eyebrow and accepts them, opening the first without another word.

“That one’s from Dean,” Sam points out helpfully, twisting and untwisting his hands like a little kid.

“A cook book,” Bobby snorts and skims quickly through it. “What makes you think I’m into Italian cuisine, boy?”

“I dunno,” Dean says. “You make a lot of… food. And I remember you used to make lasagna when me and Sammy were kids, d’you remember, Sam?”

“Yeah!” Sam says, and Cas follows their conversation with bright eyes. “And I’d always ask for more cheese on the top, until you gave up and made half of it with one top layer of cheese, and the other half with three.”

Dean chuckles at the memory of eleven-year old Sammy picking apart his lasagna, separating the layers. He’d always eat the pasta first, then all the meat, and eat the cheese last because it was the best part.

One time, Dean stole the cheese off his brother’s plate and ate it before he could. Sam threw a wailing fit like Dean had never seen before.

Bobby skims through the rest of the recipes, a quiet rumble that’s almost a laugh coming from him. “Cute,” he tells Dean dryly.

“You’re welcome,” Dean replies and takes a swig of his Coke.

Cas hands Bobby a card, and folds his hands delicately in his lap as Bobby arches his eyebrows, before reading. Dean knows what Cas has written; his boyfriend showed him before Bobby and Sam arrived.

_Bobby,  
I made you five pies. Apple, pecan, pumpkin, cherry and pear. I hope you like them. They are all in the freezer right now, so that you can bring them home and eat them whenever you feel like it._

_Merry Christmas,  
Castiel_

“Well gee, Cas,” Bobby says and looks up, eyes crinkling as he grins. “I ain’t gonna say no to any of your cookin’.”

Cas beams. Of course he fucking does. Dean has to struggle not to do the same.

“And here’s mine!” Sam says and eagerly pushes his own little present into Bobby’s hands.

“Alright, settle down, you idjit, I’m openin’ it,” Bobby says and rips it open.

It’s a framed photograph, Dean knows. A photograph of the three of them- all of Bobby’s boys.

Bobby looks at the photo without saying a word. Neither of the other men in the room say anything either.

It had been in November Sam had gotten the idea. He’d phoned Cas first, of course, because the little shit knew Dean would never agree unless he had both Sam’s and Cas’s puppy-eyes directed at him. As it was, Cas totally used his “I have a broken arm, feel sorry for me” card, and in the end Dean caved. That’s why they’re giving Bobby a picture of the three of them, sitting on the Impala’s hood, grinning in front of Dean and Cas’s little house. Dean’s even in the middle, with his arms slung around Sam and Cas’s shoulders.

Dean totally didn’t keep a copy of the picture to keep on the dresser in his and Cas’s bedroom.

Bobby runs his hands over the dark wooden frame, following the patterns there. It was Sam who’d found it in an antique store – a carving of a serpent curling around the frame. Cas had said it looked like the Serpent in the Garden. Sam said it looked like what he _thought_ dragons would look like. They don’t know how old it is exactly, only that it’s old.

Finally Bobby clears his throat and gives them an unimpressed look. "What? You wan’ a way to make sure some part of you ‘s always shacked up under my roof?"

“You’re never gonna be rid of us, old man,” Dean says and it’s a fraction fonder than it was meant. But he knows that Bobby’s bullshitting them now, because that’s what the hunter does. Dean can see how Bobby’s eyes are crinkling. He looks proud. Fuck yeah, he looks proud, and a little stunned. Suddenly Dean’s really glad Sam and Cas convinced him to take that stupid photo.

Bobby puts the frame down on the table gingerly, before turning back to them. “Well?” he says. “Let’s keep the show goin’. I ain’t got all night.” Which is, of course, another lie. None of them feel the need to call him on it, though.

 _My turn!_ Cas signs and fumbles around for Sam’s present. _Here!_

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam smiles and unwraps the book-sized box. “What’s- is this a Kindle?”

 _So it’s easier for you to keep all your necessary books in one place,_ Cas signs, his gestures big like they only are when he’s excited. Dean watches his two guys talk with a fond smile on his face. _It takes up a lot less space._

“Yeah, this is great!” Sam says and grins, already messing with the buttons on the damned little thing. It looks like a crossing between an iPhone and an iPad, though Dean’s not sure where and when he actually learned the difference between those two things. _This is gonna be great for my studies, Cas,_ Sam signs, his ASL shaky but correct, and Cas looks like he’s one second away from hugging Dean’s brother. _Thank you so much!_

“Just the kids geeking out,” Dean explains to Bobby as Cas squirms with delight. “Apparently Sammy likes his new, shiny toy.”

“I figured as much,” Bobby grumbles with a smirk of his own.

“Okay, now I gotta give you mine as well,” Sam tells Cas and gives him a soft, squishy package.

Cas pokes at it and shakes it lightly, listening as it rustles, before he rips off the wrapping paper.

Dean groans a little. It’s a sweater. Right. And Cas…. Yeah, Cas loves it. Of course.

 _It’s so green!_ Cas signs, as if he’s never seen anything green in his life before. And yeah, it is. It’s a bright green Christmas sweater with a pale blue present on the front. The present’s tied with a red ribbon, and across the chest are printed the words ‘All I want for Christmas is you’. Jesus, Sam.

Cas pulls on the hideous sweater, and something falls to the floor. He ‘eep’s in surprise, Sam smiles wider, and Dean picks it off the floor since Cas’s arms are stuck inside the sweater. It’s a notebook; hand-bound, by the looks of it. It’s beautifully done- the pages are thick and tinged olive, the cover a darker, more intense mossy green. The pattern on the front is made out of tiny letters, not words, spread out over the entire cover. Dean’s pretty sure there are letters and symbols from most of the large languages in the word- Arabic, Mandarin, Russian, Greek, Hindi, Urdu, and a lot of others he doesn’t recognize. “Whoa, Sammy,” he says and hands it over to Cas. “You really went all out.”

Sam shrugs, but he looks pleased and proud, like a puppy that’s just been praised and patted on the head.

Cas takes the notebook and stares at it, mesmerized. _Sam_ , he fingerspells, each letter signed slowly. _Wow_. He opens the book to feel the rough paper, trailing his fingertips across the open spine. _it’s so beautiful._

“I found it in that antique store,” Sam murmurs. “The same place I found Bobby’s frame. It reminded me of you.”

Cas rises from the couch and walks around the table, before he flings both arms around Sam’s giant frame. Sam _laughs_ , a happy, geeky, awesome laugh that immediately makes a similar grin appear on Dean’s face, and squeezes Cas tight.

Bobby snorts.

Cas finally pulls away and shuffles back to the couch, and when he sits down, he instantly presses against Dean’s side. Dean senses that Cas needs this right now - needs the continued physical contact for a while – so he ignores the urge to sit just a little further away, to uphold the illusion for just a little longer that all of the people in this room don’t know _exactly_ what Cas and Dean are. Instead he presses back into the touch, his right hand skimming over the small of Cas’s back before coming to rest on his own knee. He pretends Bobby and Sam didn’t notice. “Okay, so do I get to give you your present now, Cas?”

Cas shakes his head. _Yours first,_ he says and pulls out the last package from his plastic bag on the floor. It’s another soft, squishy present, though it’s still heavy.

“What’s this?” Dean murmurs and pulls off the paper, revealing dark grey, thick fabric underneath. When he pulls it out, he realizes it’s a coat. A long, grey coat, one of those expensive ones. He looks at the tag. Cashmere and wool. Whoa, good stuff. It’s got black buttons and little buckles on the cuffs, which makes it look a little more badass than those normal, business-men ones. “Cool!” Dean exclaims and runs his hands over it. It’s warm, but not rough. It’s pretty soft material for an outdoor jacket. Coat.

“Oooh, sassy,” Sam says.

“Bite me, Sammy.” Dean doesn’t have a proper winter coat, and he’s never had a badass coat in his life. All he’s had are leather jackets, which he still uses but are too cold in this weather. He can’t wait to try it on tomorrow. “Thanks, Cas,” he murmurs and folds it together, before placing it on the table and squeezing Cas’s arm. “ _Now_ it’s your turn.”

Cas’s present is huge, the biggest of them all here. It’s long and flat, and Cas widens his eyes when Dean carries it in from the bedroom.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam asks, chuckling.

“I’m sorry, there was only one size,” Dean says as he props the present up against the couch. Cas is up already, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 _Can I? Can I?_ He signs, almost too fast for Dean to see.

“Go nuts, Cas.” He steps back and lets Cas tear off the sparkly paper with little smiling snowmen on it. (Shut up, he knew Cas would like them, okay.)

It’s an easel. Dean found it in the grocery-hardware-bookstore two weeks ago, along with a set of acrylic paint tubes and a palette. “I just figured, y’know,” he says as Cas stands back and stares at his present, “since you’ve been sketching so much lately, you might wanna start painting. Maybe. I mean, you’re good with your hands.”

Sam snickers.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

Cas spins around and kisses him.

Oh. Okay. So much for staying subtle in front of Bobby. _Thank you,_ Cas signs between chaste pecks. _Thank you so much._

“Um, you’re welcome,” Dean says when Cas pulls back, and he knows his cheeks are heated. He clears his throat and sits back down in the couch, pointedly not looking at Bobby. Bobby, on his side, pointedly doesn’t say anything. “Okay! Your turn then, Sammy!”

“You gonna give me my present?” Sam asks, grinning like the kid he is. He’s got that lightly challenging stare; ‘I’m not gonna say anything but that was adorable Dean’, and Dean grimaces.

“Yeah, yeah. Here.” Dean thinks once again how perfect this present’s gonna be, before he hands Sam a tiny box.

Sam frowns, and Dean knows it looks like a small jewelry box. His brother opens it, and his excitement is replaced with that trademark bitchface of his. There we go. “Fuck you, Dean. Sparkly nail polish? Really?”

“What? I thought it would look good on you!” Dean gives his little brother his most shit-eating grin. “You can totally pull off the look, Sammy. Trust me.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam snorts. “Thanks a lot.”

Dean knows Sam would retort with something concerning Cas if Bobby wasn’t here right now, and appreciates it. “Okay, for real. I don’t have your present here right now, ‘cause I want you to choose it for yourself.” He shares a look with Cas, who looks just as excited as him. He’d had to discuss it with Cas, afraid that he wouldn’t agree with Dean, but as it turns out, Cas seemed to think it was the best idea ever.

“Choose what?” Sam says, and he’s back to a little kid.

“A puppy,” Dean says and grins. “From the shelter.”

Sam just blinks at him for a couple of seconds. “A pup- a _puppy_? But Dean, I live in a dorm!”

“We know,” Dean nods. “That’s why me and Cas thought we could keep it here until you get a place of your own. Would give you another reason to pester us on a regular basis.”

“I-“ Sam looks a little speechless, and Dean’s officially proud of himself. “A _puppy_?”

“Did I stutter or something? Okay, we go down to the shelter the day after tomorrow, and you can pick the one you want.”

“Don’t pick a poodle,” Bobby says. “They’re nasty li’l beasts.”

“Dean,” Sam says in that tone that can mean anything from ‘you can’t be serious’ to ‘this is ridiculous I can’t even’ to ‘you’re the best brother ever’. Usually it’s a combination of all three.

“I know,” Dean says with a long-suffering sigh. “I guess I’m just that awesome.”

This time it’s the Sasquatch that rises from the couch to envelop Dean in a bone-crunching hug, and Cas cackles his silent laugh from beside them.

“You are,” Sam says in a tight voice and squeezes. “Thank you, Dean.”

“No prob, jackass.”

Sam eases back and rubs his face, which is all pnk from the excitement. Taking a deep breath, he pulls out another tiny box from his pocket. “This is, um, the last one,” he says and gives it to Dean. “The last present.” His hands are barely shaking.

“Cool,” Dean says easily, and refuses to acknowledge the flutters in his stomach. He fumbles open the box, and- “… Sam.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam says quietly, his grin replaced by a sad smile. “I couldn’t let it go, not even then. I just… kept it. Figured you might want it back someday.”

“Sam,” Dean chokes out again, his own voice tight now.

“I know,” Sam murmurs, and his eyes look a little shiny.

Cas carefully squeezes Dean’s knee, and his angel’s eyes are definitely shiny. His smile is both sadder _and_ happier than Sam’s.

Dean pulls the leather necklace around his neck almost reverently, and feels the small, cold weight of the gold amulet against his skin once more. It’s familiar, and so weird after almost four years. It’s just like he remembers it. “You kept it?” Dean manages.

Sam nods. “I picked it out of the waste bin after you left. I couldn’t- yeah. I kept it. For a… better time, I guess.”

Dean curls his hand around the amulet, feels his warmth seep into the chilled gold, feels the tiny horns dig into the skin on his palm. He takes a sharp breath. “Well,” he says, and his smile is only a little shaky, “I guess it’s time for pie, then?”

~*~


	5. All Filled Up With Things Benign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where Dean and Cas have a special present for each other._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn for the amount of fluff in this chapter.

They clean away all the excessive paper, stuffing it into the empty plastic bags they used to carry the presents in, and eventually eat pie. They stay in the living room, Cas and Dean now leaning heavily against each other in the couch- all pretenses dropped. Well, most of them, anyway. There’s whipped cream and ice cream and more pie than they can eat, Cas is still wearing his goofy sweater, and Dean’s amulet is back around his neck where it belongs. He can feel, now that he has it again, how he’s missed it. Several times he catches himself fiddling with it, and Sam’s eyes grow fonder every time it happens.

This is definitely in the top five of Dean’s best days – and nights – ever. And it’s still not finished.

“I need to get back to the motel before I fall asleep,” Sam groans, when they’re done eating and the talk has died down to occasional murmurs and sleepy nods. He sits up and rubs his eyes. “Oh, man. I don’t think I can stand.”

Dean laughs and gets up, wincing at how full he is. “C’mon, bro. Think about the Christmas lunch tomorrow.”

Sam utters a groan that’s both appreciative and pained, and stumbles out of the room.

They follow Bobby and Sam out into the hallway. Since their small house has only got one bedroom, their couches aren’t big enough to house both Sam and Bobby. Sam can barely curl up on the three-seater, and Dean’s planning on buying a foldable bed over New Year’s, but as it stands now, there’s nowhere for Bobby to sleep. So they wave Sam and Bobby off for now, both men slipping into Bobby’s old truck. Sam’s driving.

“So,” Dean says. They watch the truck drive off, both of them standing in the doorway, feeling the December chill. “Do you still hate Christmas?”

Cas immediately presses close and pulls his face down for a slow, real kiss. The kind of kiss that Dean would never let his brother - or Bobby - watch. _Best day ever,_ Cas signs, his grin so wide it looks like he’s about to pull something.

Dean just holds his boyfriend close for a while, reveling in how nice it is not to worry about personal space or social etiquette. If he wants to kiss the hell outta Cas out on his own porch on Christmas Eve, that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

They eventually walk back into the living room, Dean locking the doors and turning off the lights in the hallway. Cas cleans off the living room table while Dean puts away the pies. There’s not much left of them, and Dean smirks. He’ll eat the rest of it tomorrow, with whipped cream, on the bed with Cas. Or just _on_ Cas. Screw crumbles - it’s romantic, or whatever.

“A coat, huh,” he says when the table’s clean, and picks up the cashmere coat Cas gave him. “Pretty neat.”

 _I think you’ll look sexy in it,_ Cas signs cheekily and feels the material. _I hope it fits_.

“I’m sure it does, Cas.” Dean kisses him, the coat trapped between their bodies, until Cas’s lips are puffy and reddened. Just the way Dean likes them. “Um, actually, I… I’ve got something else for you.”

Cas grins up at him, one hand on his waist as the other signs. _Really? I have something for you too._

“You do, do you?” Dean lets a hand skim down Cas’s flank until he cups his angel’s ass, eliciting a small gasp from the other man.

 _Not that,_ Cas signs and snorts. _That’s a bonus._

“Some bonus,” Dean murmurs and nips at Cas’s bottom lip, just to hear his boyfriend’s breath falter momentarily.

Cas pushes him back with a mock-glare. _You’re too easily distracted,_ he chides and pads over to the bedroom to retrieve his old notebook. Dean goes over to his leather jacket and rummages through the inner pocket.

They settle in the couch without another word, the silence heavy with _something_. There’s an air of importance, of _this is it_ , and it makes Dean’s heart beat faster.

“Can I go first?” he asks eventually, and Cas nods and swallows. He’s holding his notebook tightly, knuckles whitening, but his eyes are unflinching and filled with so much love Dean has no idea how to deal with it.

So in the end, he just pulls out the tiny box. Cas’s eyes widen almost comically, and Dean opens it.

“I’m not-” Dean says and his voice quivers a little. He tries again. “I’m not asking you to marry me or anything, Cas. I just…”

Cas nods, eyes shiny as he reaches out to touch the ring. It’s a thin platinum band, and it matches the tiny grey speckles in Cas’s blue eyes. That’s why Dean chose it. _Can I?_ Cas mouths, and Dean nods. Cas takes the ring with trembling hands, immediately noticing the small inscription on the inside.

It’s an Enochian sigil. Dean had spent weeks trying to find any books on Enochian, and in the end the answer was where it usually is- at Bobby’s. It’s a symbol. Two circles, a square between them, and a straight line to connect the two dots. The dots represent two people, the box is Life, with the line connects them.

 _Zade,_ Cas signs with fingerspelling, the phonetic equivalent of the Enochian word.

“Profound Bond,” Dean says quietly.

Cas’s eyes brim over, and he doesn’t wipe away the tears this time.

“Can I?” Dean asks, his voice rough, and Cas nods. He takes the ring and puts it on Cas’s right ring finger, slowly. The platinum band is cool against his fingers, Cas so warm, and Dean can feel his heartbeat in his ears. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he pulls away and exhales sharply.

They both stare at the band on Cas’s finger.

“I’d like to get one, too,” Dean says after a while, his fingertips tracing the band. “But I want you to choose it. If you want.”

Cas just slips his other hand around Dean’s neck and pulls him close, closing his eyes. He tastes salty from the tears, his lips are wet, and Dean licks into his mouth until all that’s left is the taste of _them_.

 _I love you,_ Cas signs, pressing his lips against Dean’s jaw before pulling back. Dean smiles, feeling just a little self-conscious, and Cas gives him a soft smile in return. He gives Dean his notebook and opens it on a certain page. _For you,_ is the only thing he signs.

Dean stares at the paper.

Cas has drawn words. Dozens upon dozens of old-fashioned letters, curling and twisting around each other to make a greater picture, and when Dean brings the paper further away, he can see they form a hand. A series of Latin words make the outline of the hand in sharp, black letters.

From the hand, a pair of small wings folds out on the sides. The smaller feathers near the base are all written in the same words; _**amo te**_ , over and over, in brown ink. Further out, where the longer feathers are, are the words _ **ad finem mundi et ultra**_ written in black. The outline of the hand, which looks like one continuing string of words, read: _**te sunt qui occupauere me stricta et suscitavit me a perditionis**_. In the palm of the hand is written a single word: _Dean_ , and it’s surrounded by an anti-possession tattoo identical to Dean’s.

It’s a beautiful drawing, its details so incredibly small and elaborate. It must have taken Cas hours to draw it.

“Cas…” Dean says, unsure what to do with this. He knows the meaning of every single word. _I love you. To the end of the world and beyond._

_You’re the one who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition._

Cas lifts his gaze and smiles softly. _It’s the tattoo I’m getting,_ he signs. _I designed it myself._

“Your- your _what_?” Dean sputters.

Cas lifts his right hand to place it against the handprint scar on Dean’s shoulder. _My mark on you,_ he signs, before taking Dean’s left hand and placing it on his own chest, where his heart lies. _Your mark on me. A mark I chose._

“Cas, jesus… are…” _Are you sure?_ But he doesn’t say it out loud, because he knows that Cas is. His face is resolved, and open, and content, and so goddamn beautiful Dean wants to cry. In the end he just pulls his angel close, Cas melting into him like he belongs there and nowhere else, and Dean whispers “I love you, Cas,” into his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Cas holds him tight and doesn’t let go.

~*~

[](http://s1194.photobucket.com/albums/aa371/Princess_Aleera/Pictures/?action=view&current=Zade.png)   
_Zade_


	6. Silk Sheet, Blue Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where Dean and Cas are supposed to get up for Christmas lunch._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn? :3

Christmas morning is a lazy one, with sharp, thin sunlight piercing through the curtains of their little bedroom. Dean is woken by a gentle, searching tongue working its way down his chest, circling his nipple and suckling gently on it. He lets out a groan and arches a little, feels nimble fingers creep up to clutch at his hair. “G’morning, Cas.”

A soundless chuckle, and Cas nips at his nipple before moving back up. He grins at Dean, barely-there wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, which soften his face into something very human. It looks good on him, Dean thinks. Cas dips in, coaxes Dean’s lips apart with the tip of that talented tongue, and his eyes flutter shut. Dean gives as good as he gets, presses in until he can roll the two of them over, trapping Cas under his own, taller frame.

“Gotcha,” Dean murmurs and grins down at his boyfriend.

Cas answers by leaning up to catch Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, biting down just slightly. His hands skim down Dean’s sides, fingernails scratching thin lines across his lower back until they reach his ass, one finger dipping in between his cheeks. They’re both naked – Dean likes sleeping like that, even if Cas still wears a t-shirt in bed. Cas must have slipped the t-shirt off before he woke Dean, the evil mastermind.

Dean squirms a little, huffing as he looks down at Cas’s mischievous expression. He looks over at the clock. Ten fifty. “No time, Cas. Sam and Bobby are coming soon.” He grinds down against him all the same, feels Cas’s hardness against his own. Oh, Dean loves sleeping naked.

Cas pouts, and the finger dips a little lower, almost like a _please_. The hand still tangled in Dean’s hair, hair that’s too long and needs to get cut, tightens. Dean keens.

“Cas. You’re making this–” Cas bucks up against him, and Dean’s thoroughly coherent sentence trails into a moan. “Hard.”

Cas’s smirk turns sly, and he arches an eyebrow. His hips are still moving in slow, teasing circles, rubbing Dean just right.

“To stop,” Dean says, and has to think to remember what he means here. “I meant hard to stop. Not – not _that_ kind of hard.”

Cas snorts a laugh and pulls him down for another kiss, this one almost bruising. The finger is circling Dean’s hole, pressing lightly against the pucker without pushing inside. Cas pulls back, licks once at Dean’s upper lip, and mouths _please_.

Dean groans, lets his forehead rest against Cas’s. “Don’t beg. You know I can’t deal with those puppy-eyes of yours. They’re gonna be here in half an hour.” He presses a kiss to the corner of his angel’s mouth, sees Cas’s eyes crinkle with mirth, and knows he’s already lost. “You’re evil.”

Cas laughs, and leans over to get the bottle of lube from the nightstand. Dean lets out a dramatic sigh and gets up on all fours, so Cas can scoot up in the bed a little. He straddles the thinner man’s thighs and licks at his throat, sucking at the skin until nice, dark bruises start to appear there. He knows Cas will bitch at him for this later, when he’ll need to wear a high-collar shirt to hide the marks, but it’s worth it.

Cas grumbles, but arches his neck to give him more room nonetheless. Dean chuckles and works his way down, leaving marks on Cas’s neck, collarbone, clavicle. There’s the sound of a bottle opening, Cas shifts, and then there are teeth grazing the shell of Dean’s ear and a finger slowly pressing into him. The lube’s cold, and Dean hisses and arches.

“Bitch,” he mutters and leans back to look at Cas’s face.

Cas just looks happy, eyes gleaming as they hold Dean’s focus. He presses his nose tip against Dean’s in an Eskimo kiss, his finger twisting, pushing in deeper. Dean rocks against his man, reveling in the delicious friction, and Cas’s breath hitches a little. They stay like that, Dean’s arms around Cas’s shoulders, Cas’s hand on Dean’s hip, fingertips pressing into firm skin. Soon there’s another finger working its way inside him, and Dean lets out another groan.

Cas mouths at his jaw, small puffs of air matching their rhythm, while his fingers work Dean open. At the first press against his prostate, Dean keens and throws his head back. “Jesus, Cas.”

Silent chuckling against his mouth, and Cas’s free hand worms its way back up into his hair. Pulls his head even further back, exposing his throat for Cas to place his own marks. Dean lets him, breath speeding up as his thrusts grow erratic for a second, before Cas pulls his fingers out and Dean moans – half in disappointment at the loss, half in anticipation for what’s to come.

He shifts, his hand skimming down to wrap around Cas. Cas lets out a sharp exhale, bucking into Dean’s tight fist on pure instinct, and his free hand grips Dean’s shoulder hard to ground himself. Dean loves this; loves that even after months together, Cas is so _new_ to sex. Not inexperienced, not shy, but open and honest about his body’s responses. It’s something Dean likes to take advantage of – pushing his buttons, drawing out those half-sounds Cas makes when he’s no longer sure which way’s up or down.

After a few strokes, Dean guides himself down onto Cas’s cock, hissing at the burn. Cas licks his way into Dean’s mouth, pressing closer, wordlessly trying to distract from the discomfort. Dean hums, their tongues wrestling, and sinks down slowly, slowly, until Cas bottoms out inside him and he’s completely seated in his angel’s lap.

“You okay?” Dean says, voice slightly husky.

Cas snorts a laugh and cocks his head as if to say _really?_

“Shut up,” Dean mutters and lifts himself up, before sinking heavily back down. Cas chokes on his laugh, his hands on Dean tightening as Dean squeezes his inner muscles. They’re good together; effortless. Cas is smooth and slick against him, his willowy body covered in a sheen of sweat. He’s gasping, breath stuttering as he utters choked gasps that could once have been whimpers and mewls.

They’re quiet today, more so than usual. The only sounds in the room are their mingled breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the rhythmic creaking of the bedsprings as Dean rides his angel. Cas’s fingers are leaving bruises on Dean’s back, and Cas mouths hotly at Dean’s shoulder before biting down. Dean likes to think of it as Cas’s equivalent of moaning.

Suddenly Cas’s hands are on Dean’s shoulders, _pushing_ , and before Dean’s entirely sure what’s going on, he’s on his back and empty, with Cas grinning down at him. That little minx. “Sneaky,” Dean says, his voice reduced to a low drawl, and lets his limbs fall to the bed for Cas to do what he wants with.

Cas spreads Dean’s legs, his slightly cold fingers tracing Dean’s inner thighs before he leans closer, draping himself over Dean entirely. He pushes in again, slow and unrushed, watching Dean’s expression with a soft smile as Dean closes his eyes against the sensations. Cas nuzzles the curve of his jaw, and Dean feels his smile more than he sees it when Cas presses kisses there. “Sap,” Dean murmurs and pushes a sweaty bang away from his angel’s face when Cas leans back.

Cas’s smile turns wicked as his pace turns bruising. Dean lets his head fall back as he tilts his hips slightly, the new angle making Cas hit his sweet spot _every goddamn time_ , and it’s only minutes before he’s reduced to a keening, thrashing mess under Cas’s ministrations. Dean can act as tough as he wants; he knows Cas can play all his strings with minimal effort.

Cas snakes a hand in between their bodies to grip Dean tight, the cold metal of his new ring making Dean hiss when it comes into contact with his flushed skin. “Fuck,” Dean lets out shakily, and Cas chuckles. The angel starts jacking him off with rough, uncoordinated strokes, his own thrusts losing their rhythm as he starts to come apart.

“Cas,” Dean moans. “Fuck, _please._ ” He barely know what he’s asking for right now, but Cas knows. Cas always knows. The angel presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to Dean’s lips before he leans down to give the handprint on Dean’s shoulder a kittenish lick. Dean jumps from the contact. _Fuck, sensitive._ Dean’s hands squeeze Cas’s ass, presses him even closer, as far inside him as Cas can go, and groans.

Cas bites down on the handprint scar.

Dean’s orgasm tears through him so suddenly it hurts, a strangled cry the only sound he’s able to make as he comes. Cas thrusts once, twice, and then he tumbles over the edge as well, pushed by Dean clenching around him. He utters a choked-off little sound and collapses onto Dean’s chest, gasping for breath.

They stay like that, Cas still inside him, Dean’s hands trailing across Cas’s back lightly, until they regain their breath and general brain functions. Dean feels the ridges, the uneven, yet smooth scarred skin under his fingers, and feels Cas sigh in contentment. Cas presses a kiss to his chest, right above his nipple.

“Mmm,” Dean grunts and wriggles a little. He winces at the friction, but Cas takes the hint and pulls out. They roll over onto their sides, Cas letting Dean curl around him. They’re spooning, legs and fingers tangled, and Dean thinks it’s embarrassing how much he loves these post-coital embraces. He watches how Cas’s shoulders move slightly with each deep breath the fallen angel takes, so slow he could almost be asleep. Dean presses a kiss between Cas’s shoulder blades, smelling himself on Cas’s skin. This is one of the best feelings in the world.

“Sam’s gonna be pissed when we’re not dressed,” he murmurs.

Cas chuckles and untangles one of his hands from Dean’s. _We should get up. Unless you want Bobby to get a show._

“Oh, gross, Cas.” Dean pinches Cas’s ass, and the other man gives out a sharp gasp before huffing in annoyance. _Ow._

Dean laughs quietly. “You deserved it.” He can feel Cas pouting even if he can’t see it, and nuzzles against Cas’s curly hair in apology. It’s starting to get cold, now that they’re no longer moving, and Dean reluctantly moves away. Cas turns a little, just to watch him, but doesn’t move to get up. Just gives him a serene, little smile.

Dean heads into the bathroom to get a wet cloth, not caring that he has to walk naked through their living room in order to do so, and comes back with a blanket from the couch as well. Cas’s favorite blanket. He cleans them both off before covering them with the blanket, and Cas shuffles closer to him as soon as he lies back down.

“We’re so late,” Dean murmurs into Cas’s neck, and his boyfriend nods.

_But it was worth it._

Dean traces the platinum band on Cas’s right hand and sighs. “Yeah. It was.”

Cas tangles his fingers with Dean’s and squeezes. They snooze together under the blanket for a good fifteen minutes, warm and sated, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

The doorbell rings.

“Fuck,” Dean says, and Cas laughs silently.

~*~


	7. I Grinned at You Softly (‘Cause I’m a Fucking Wild Card)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where Sam corners Dean for a chick-flick talk._

“Hey, happy Christmas Day,” Dean says, his voice overly cheery as he opens the door.

Sam and Bobby, both appropriately dressed in nice clothes and thick jackets, stare at him.

“We, uh, overslept,” Dean says. He pulls his blanket tighter around himself and feels his ears redden.

“I bet,” Sam says, face pinched in that way that means he’s fighting hard not to laugh in Dean’s face. Dean appreciates the effort he makes.

“Just – get some clothes on, will ya?” Bobby says and rolls his eyes. He looks a little uncomfortable, but only a little, which Dean takes as a good sign.

“Sure, we’ll be right out. Make yourself at home.” Dean steps back to let them in, before shuffling over to the closed bedroom door. “I’ll be, uh… right out.”

“Don’t sweat yourself,” Bobby grunts.

“Do you want me to start putting on the food?” Sam asks, ever the little helper.

“Sure, just take the food out of the fridge. Most of it’s supposed to be cold anyway.” Dean slips into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

Cas has his back towards him and is currently shimmying into a slim pair of dark jeans. Dean crosses the room and presses close, letting a finger trail suggestively along the line of Cas’s waistband. Cas squirms and turns around to give him a glare.

“Nothing,” Dean says, blinking innocently at his angel. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Cas snorts and pushes at him. _Get dressed,_ he signs and tries to look stern. But he’s still too content, too mellow after his recent orgasm, so it just looks cute. Dean kisses away the little frown he’s sporting and grins. Cas’s skin is a little flushed, almost like he’s glowing. It’s disturbingly telling.

“I’ll never be able to convince Sam and Bobby we didn’t just have sex,” Deans sighs and strokes his thumb along Cas’s cheekbone. “You’ve got the worst afterglow. And I really don’t need this conversation to happen _ever_.”

Cas gives him an apologetic smile. _I’m sorry,_ he signs. _I’m just happy._

“I know. It looks good on you.” Dean gives his angel a quick peck on the mouth. “Okay, I need to get dressed.”

Cas points at the bed, where clean clothes have been laid out for him.

“You are _awesome_ ,” Dean breathes and grabs his jeans, pulling them on.

 _I know,_ Cas signs easily and finds a t-shirt.

They get dressed in a couple of minutes, with minimal distractions (Cas has soft skin, okay), and stumble out into the living room looking somewhat decent and not too boyfriendly – Dean hopes.

Cas waves hello to Bobby in the living room, cheeks burning, before he promptly disappears into the kitchen to help Sam with the food.

Bobby stares at Dean, an eyebrow raised. Dean mumbles something noncommittally and starts setting the table.

“Cas, where d’you want the–” Dean hears Sam’s voice break off abruptly. “Hey, where’d you get the ring? I haven’t seen that before.”

Dean stops, plates in hand, and listens harder. He’s fighting to keep the smile off his face as Sam cackles at something Cas must’ve signed.

“You’re such a liar. Dean gave it to you, didn’t he?” A new silence, and Sam snorts. “Awww, that’s adorable. I always knew he was – ow!”

Dean chuckles at the barely-there slap he hears, and finishes setting the plates. As he goes to get the spare cutlery, he hears Sam’s voice, quiet this time. “It’s beautiful.”

Dean rolls his eyes. Sam and Cas come out with trays of food – turkey slices and sweet potatoes, a salad, and a plate with meatballs. Sam’s face lights up when he sees Dean. He looks proud, like he’s the big brother of the two of them.

“Dean-”

“No, I’m not gonna tell you ‘bout it,” Dean says and drops down into one of the chairs. “So spare me the gushing, Betty Boop.”

“I’m just-”

“ _No_ , Sam,” Dean sing-songs. “Bobby, there’s food.”

Bobby heads over to them.

“It’s nice, that’s all,” Sam says easily. “Very pretty.”

Dean gives Sam the finger, and Cas chuckles. Bobby ignores all of it.

Cas gives an inviting gesture at the food, and they start handing around the different plates. This time, the meal’s not so silent – Sam talks about his studies, Dean talks about his jobs and the shelter. They discuss what kind of dog Sam should get, if the new Iron Man movie is awesome or not (Cas has a thing for Robert Downey Junior – not that Dean’s jealous or anything). Bobby and Cas stay quiet for the most part, following Dean and Sam’s banter with quiet amusement.

When they’re done, Sam demands that Cas relax with Bobby while Dean helps him do the dishes. Dean recognizes his brother’s pathetic attempt at trying to get Dean alone with him, and braces himself. “C’mon, get it off your chest,” he says as soon as they’re in the kitchen alone. Cas and Bobby are in the living room zapping through the channels in the hunt for a decent movie.

“Did you ask him to marry you?” Sam says, eyes wide with puppy-like happiness.

“What? No! Jesus, Sam.” Dean grabs a plate and starts scrubbing, mostly so he has something to do. He doesn’t look at Sam, who is thrumming with excitement by his side.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think? You did give him a ring.” Sam starts rinsing plates before handing them to Dean. He grins. “I can’t believe you gave Cas a _ring_.”

“Shut up.” He can’t quite keep the smile off his face, but almost. Almost.

Sam notices, but considerately doesn’t say anything about that. “It’s… a ring, Dean. That’s pretty huge.”

Dean takes a moment to finish up with a plate before replying. “I know.”

“I mean, just a few months ago you couldn’t even hug Cas without freaking out. And now you’re practically married.” He sounds a little awed.

“I know,” Dean says again, softer, this time.

Sam does this almost-wriggle that Dean takes to be excitement. “So… are you _gonna_ ask him to marry you?” he asks, all childish joy and false innocent-eyes.

“Aaaand the conversation’s over.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dean! I was only asking!”

“And it’s none of your business.”

Sam pouts.

“Sam,” Dean says and turns to his brother. “Seriously. Just because we’re living the apple-pie life doesn’t mean we need the touchy-feely talks.”

“I like those talks,” Sam says and grins cheekily.

“I know you do. That’s why I let you stay over here on my late-shift Fridays, so you and Cas can have your girls’ night in. Braid each other’s hair, watch Pretty Woman and cry together. Get your kumba-ya-ya’s out.” Dean smirks. Actually, he really likes it when Sam stays over here. Even those nights when Dean doesn’t get home before they’re both asleep; when he has to work those occasional night shift at the hospital. He knows how much Cas loves these nights, when he can just geek out with Sam, without Dean’s snark as a constant commentary.

Sam huffs indignantly and stays quiet for almost a full minute. Dean can feel he’s working his way up to something, though, so he’s not surprised when the next statement comes. “So you love him, then.”

“Sam,” Dean whines. “Can we not do this?”

“What?” Sam says. “You gave Cas a _ring_ , Dean, and now you can’t even tell me that you love him? You can’t do it if you can’t say it, y’know.”

“Can’t and won’t are not the same things, Sammy,” Dean mutters and wipes the plates with a dishtowel. He glances at the door opening, making sure Bobby can’t hear them in here.

Sam’s doing his broody ‘this is important’ stare again. “Dean…”

“Yes,” Dean snaps and puts the plate a little harder on top of the stack than necessary. The plates rattle with the force of it. “Okay? Yeah, I do. I love Cas. Now can we drop this forever? Please?”

Sam doesn’t say anything at once, and for a wonderful moment, Dean thinks his brother’s actually gonna let it go. Then Sam pulls him into a tight hug and says “knew you had it in you, Dean,” in a voice that sounds all choked up.

“Aw, jesus, Sammy,” Dean groans and struggles to breathe through the vice-like grip. “Geroff.”

“You two are good for each other,” Sam mumbles into his neck before he pulls back, still grinning so widely it probably hurts him.

“Shut up,” Dean says and ignores the little tumble his stomach does. “Go put these back where they belong. Make yourself useful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam says and takes the plates, getting out before Dean can hit him.

Dean works through the rest of the dishes in solitude, until he hears quiet footsteps. An arm sneaks around his waist, and a nose nuzzles the shell of his ear. “Fuck, you overheard that?” Dean murmurs, just a little embarrassed, and smiles at his boyfriend.

Cas grins. _Thank you_ , he mouths and kisses Dean’s cheek chastely.

“Thanks for what?” Dean asks, but Cas just smiles and goes back into the living room.

Dean shakes his head. His fucking weirdo.

~*~


	8. I’ve Been Sorry All These Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where Dean and Cas tell their story, and we meet the newest member of the Winchester family._

“Merry Christmas, babe!” Tammi chirps and throws her arms around Cas’s slender shoulders. Tammi’s something like a foot shorter than Dean, so even Cas rages over her. It’s kind of adorable to look at how Cas has to lean down in order for her to get a proper grip. Cas squeezes her in greeting.

“Merry Christmas, Tambourine,” Dean says and crosses his arms, looking at the two of them with a smirk.

Tammi rolls her eyes at the nickname. “Aww. Deanibaby’s feeling left out of the group hug.” She grins at Cas and gives him a loud smooch on the cheek. “Cassy, tell me something.”

Cas cocks his head at her in question, cheeks a little pink but his smile wide.

Tammi leans close to his ear, her voice dropping down to a conspiratorial whisper. “If Dean was out of the picture, d’you ever think there’d be a future for us?”

“Hey!” Dean says, faux-annoyed.

Cas giggles and gives her a light peck on the cheek. He signs one word, and Dean cackles.

“What’s that?” Tammi asks, eyes sparkling as they turn to Dean’s.

“Gay,” Dean says with a chuckle.

Tammi bursts out laughing, and abandons Cas’s embrace to barrel into Dean. “Merry Christmas, Deanibaby.”

Dean grimaces at the _horrible_ nickname (which is totally just Tammi getting back at him for _accidentally_ spilling Coke on her Zac Efron t-shirt the other week, he just knows it), but hugs his co-worker and friend tightly nonetheless. “It’s okay, Tambourine. I know you’d totally choose me over Cas. The hotness, you know.”

Tammi snorts. “Would not. You’re an obnoxious asshole.”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting that.”

Cas chuckles and steps around them to hug Dean from behind. “Aw, group hug!” Tammi says. “My favorite. You are so cute.”

“Shut up, Tammi,” Dean murmurs.

They get into Dean’s baby, having picked up Tammi outside her little apartment. It’s a small complex ten minutes away from the hospital, and they drive by it on their way to the restaurant. Tammi had called Christmas Day and demanded to have Dean and Cas to herself, so third day of Christmas it is.

The restaurant’s Italian, and Tammi’s dressed up nicely. For once, there’s no Hannah Montana, no High School Musical, nothing Disney-related on her shirt. Though it’s still bright pink, so it’s still _Tammi_.

Cas winces when he steps out of the car, right hand briefly moving up to his chest. “You okay?” Dean asks. He knows the tattoo’s supposed to be really sore for the first couple of days, but he doesn’t like seeing Cas in pain. And Cas was in a _lot_ of pain while getting that tattoo. He’d gripped Dean’s hand so hard it had almost left dents, his breath shallow as he tried to keep still. The tattoo artist, Taylor, a tiny woman with a green pixie-cut, had told Cas over and over how great he was doing, considering this was his first time. Dean had kept quiet, knowing that if he spoke, he’d ask Cas to leave it alone just to stop the pain, and instead wiped away the few tears that slid down Cas’s cheeks. Cas had put Dean’s hand on the bandage when they were done, taken a deep breath, and signed that it was worth it. And Dean knew it was the truth.

Cas nods, but Tammi notices, of course. “What’s wrong?”

Cas waves it off, but Tammi stares pointedly at him, so he relents and signs _just tell her_ at Dean.

“Cas, he.. um. He sorta got a tattoo.”

“Are you _serious_?!” Tammi’s there immediately, short fingers skimming carefully over the bandage patch underneath Cas’s sweater. “Oh wow, it feels big. Is it big? What is it? Is it like one of those hearts with an arrow, and Dean’s name in the middle? ‘Cause that would be _so cute_.”

“Oh dear _God_ , no,” Dean exclaims. He feels a little nauseous just at the thought.

 _Your name is in the middle, Dean,_ Cas signs as they step into the restaurant.

“That’s not the same.”

“What’s not?” Tammi asks Cas, that sly, dangerous smile on her face again.

Cas signs at Tammi, and Dean sighs. “My… name is on the tattoo. But there are no red hearts!” he points out quickly.

“Oh my God,” Tammi coos, and they sit down by a small table in the corner. “That is so precious it physically hurts.”

“Yeah, physically hurt Cas too,” Dean mutters.

Cas snorts and gives him a light peck on the mouth. _I don’t regret it, Dean. It’s beautiful._

“Look at you, Dean, all mother bear,” Tammi says and smiles. “Which reminds me!” She dives into her purse and pulls out a package. “It’s for you two. My favorite couple.”

Cas takes the package – red, neatly wrapped with a green bow, and a small card attached to it. Cas reads it, and smiles before leaning over to hug her.

“What’s it say?” Dean says, _not_ excited, and leans over. “Wait. Can we open this in public?”

“No,” Tammi says with her big, brown eyes, batting her eyelashes innocently. “You really can’t.”

“You are evil,” Dean says.

“You’ll thank me later. Trust me, Cas.” She winks before picking up her menu. “So, what are you doing? I mean, having?”

Cas snorts and Dean ignores his insane coworker. Cas and Tammi both settle on pasta; Dean buys a pizza for himself. They dabble in a number on different topics for a while, mostly about dogs and Sam and Christmas. They went to the rescue shelter two days ago, and Sam’s home right now with his Christmas present, Turnpike. She’s a two-year old white American Shepherd, and Dean loves her name. Tammi’s a cat person herself, but she loves the thought of Cas snuggling with pretty much _anything_ , so it works out. They stay away from work topics – dead people isn’t the most pleasant conversational piece. Cas signs with Tammi, and Dean tells his sentences. It’s faster than Cas writing on the whiteboard, which Cas does every time he and Tammi hang out without Dean around.

“So how was your Christmas?” Dean says via Cas.

“Was okay,” Tammi nods. “Hung out with the folks, my two sisters, and their husbands. Also, my youngest sister Melanie just got a baby, so that was interesting.” She grins. “Made me remember why I’m very, very okay with being single.”

“Yeah,” Dean snorts. Cas arches an eyebrow at him. “Or, you know. Whatever, um. Fits you, I guess.”

“Whipped,” Tammi fake-coughs and winks at Dean, before leaning back in her chair.

“Always have been, ma’am,” Dean says and mock-salutes her. Cas beams.

Tammie grins, but there’s a twinkle of something else in her eyes as well. “But seriously, you guys. How did you… you know. End up together? All these months, and you never told me how you met. A girl's gotta know this, you know.”

“Um, well.” Dean glances at Cas. They’ve never told anyone outside their world the whole story before, and though they’ve discussed some bullet points, they’ve never actually… done this. “I met Cas in the military seven years ago,” Dean says.

“You were in the military together?” Tammi asks, glancing between the two of them. “You never told me that. I’m impressed.”

“Well, it’s kinda… let’s just say ‘Confidential’ doesn’t quite cover it,” Dean says and rubs his neck.

Tammi’s eyes widen a little. “Really?” she whispers and leans forward. “What did you _do_?”

“We can’t – we can’t tell you,” Dean says, spinning most of this tale in his head as he talks. Cas watches with interest – maybe even fascination –beside him, one soothing hand on Dean’s knee under the table. “But we traveled around a lot, saving people… hunting things.” He shrugs.

“Wow,” Tammi says. “So – so how did you first meet?”

Cas snorts and signs cheekily at Dean.

“I did not!” Dean exclaims. “I can’t tell her that!”

“What?” Tammi grins.

Cas nudges Dean with his elbow and a crooked smile, and ugh. Cas is too good at this. “Well, we weren’t… exactly friends from the moment we met,” Dean admits. “We were from different platoons, but fighting on the same side. Only, eh,” he breaks into a fit of inappropriate giggles, trying to fit this into something that doesn’t make him sound completely fucking crazy.

“Only what?” Tammi asks, almost bouncing in her seat now.

“Only I didn’t know that,” Dean says slowly, “so when he caught me in the middle of a mission, I sort of… stabbed him.”

“You _what_?!” Tammi gasps, hand in front of her mouth, looking amused and horrified at the same time.

“Only a little!” Dean says, as if that makes it less horrifying.

Cas pointedly pats the right side of his chest, between his ribs. There’s no scar there anymore, but Dean remembers the feeling even today. He gives Cas an apologetic smile. “Yeah, it wasn’t… the best first meeting ever.”

Tammi cackles, but cuts herself off quickly. “Oh my God, Cas, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean – it must have been painful for you! Were you really hurt?”

Cas shakes his head with a smile. “It was just a scratch,” Dean says for him.

“But how, where’d you go from there?”

“Well, as I said,” Dean says and glances at Cas, “we _were_ fighting for the same side. So as soon as Cas was… healed, we started going on missions together, for then to report back to our separate officers. We grew closer with time. And then, well, a lot of shit happened.”

Cas’s smile dims a little, and Dean shifts closer.

Tammi notices, of course, and her eyebrows draw together. “What’s – was it bad?”

“Felt like the end of the world, for a while,” Dean admits and looks over at his man. “We lost a lot of good people, both of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Tammi murmurs. “That sounds – wow, like some kind of Hollywood movie or something. Unreal.”

“Yeah, it was,” Dean nods. He signs at Cas, a strange type of privacy in the middle of the conversation. _Do you want her to know about?_ He doesn’t need to sign anything more than that.

 _Yes, but._ Cas frowns. _How will you tell her?_

 _I’ve got an idea._ Dean smiles and squeezes Cas’s hand once.

“What is it?” Tammi says, a soft smile on her face. “You guys just had a moment.”

“Sorry. S’just that, um. I kinda… lost Cas. For a while.”

Tammi pales. “You… how, what?”

Cas is watching Dean now, curious and kind of sad but so openly trusting Dean, wanting to hear Dean’s story. Dean has to do this properly, he’s gotta… yeah. For Cas. “There was a… mission. Our last, actually. High casualty risk, extremely dangerous, hostile territory – the whole shebang. The kind of mission we specialized in. And we, we lost a close friend there. They got the jump on us and killed him. He was like a brother to Cas. And Cas… Cas got in the way of a grenade.”

Realization dawns on Cas, and with it comes the memories. His eyes cloud over with past pain, and Dean squeezes his hand harder.

Tammi’s eyes are shiny. “Guys, I’m sorry about – I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no, it’s okay. We have to tell someone eventually, right?” Dean sends her a quick smile. He trusts Tammi. They both do. “I’m sure it’s good for us. All… cathartic or whatever. Anyway, I, um, we got out of there. We finished the mission. Our friend was gone, but I managed to get Cas out. Had to keep him from bleeding out on the way to the military camp.” A brief thought strikes him – he wonders how Bobby would feel about his old house being called a military camp – but he can’t find it amusing right now. “The grenade, it – that's why...” he can't say it. But Cas gets it; taps his fingers against his Adam's apple, and Tammi's eyes widen.

“Oh,” she says. “I always thought – I mean, it seemed like you were fairly new to... using whiteboards and ASL, from what I could see.”

Cas nods crookedly, and lets out a long, sharp exhale. Dean doesn't know what else he can do but let his thumb rub soothing circles on the inside of Cas's wrist, and Cas's eyes lose their pained edges. “Cas was there for… a pretty long time,” Dean says to Tammi. “In the hospital. Over a month. I got off with an honorable discharge and… waited.”

“So Dean stayed by your side for all that time?” Tammi asks Cas, voice and eyes fond.

 _Mostly,_ Cas signs with a sad smile.

“Mostly,” Dean repeats and looks down at the table for a while. “See, me and Cas were never… in the military, we were friends. Best friends. Practically family.”

“Oh, I see,” Tammi murmurs.

“When Cas got – got hurt, all this new shit started piling up,” Dean says and dares a smile when he sees it’s reflected in Cas’s expression. “And I didn’t deal real well with that shit at first.”

“Let me guess,” Tammi says and looks at Cas. “Denial and rejection?”

Cas gives one long nod.

“Dean,” Tammi chastises, but the playful twinkle is back in her eyes. It’s wary, because of the backstory, but it’s there. “Tut-tut.”

Dean chuckles. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So what changed?” Tammi asks.

Dean waits a long time to answer that one. Tammi and Cas wait with him. “I think I did,” he says quietly, after way too long.

One beat. Then Cas leans close to nuzzle behind his ear, long fingers squeezing his arm gently, cool lips against his own, flushed skin. Dean bows his head.

“Deanibaby,” Tammi says, her voice soothing and familiar in a way that reminds him of his mother. It’s her hand on his right shoulder, grasping it tightly. “I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t.” A brief urge flares up – a beast that hasn’t reared its head in a while. It screams _Whisky, just that one drink_ at him, and he pushes it down with a sharp inhale of air. Everything smells like blood and tears and burning wings for a second – and then it’s over. Dean blinks and looks up, gives Tammi another smile. This one is genuine.

“And Sam?” Tammi asks, and doesn’t let go of his shoulder. Her eyes are big and brown and not like Cas’s at all, but still share that same patience and warmth. Dean wonders if that’s why he instinctively liked the woman when he met her. “What does Sam know?”

Cas huffs a laugh against his neck, and Dean smiles. “Everything. Sammy knows _everything._ ”

 

They drive Tammi home after dessert. The conversation is quiet after, but not awkward. It’s… relaxed. Dean can relax. It feels like… like Tammi is as close as she can ever be to knowing Dean. Knowing Cas. Knowing about angels, about demons, about the Apocalypse and _everything_. And yet, she’s not in danger. Not anymore than they all are.

It’s fucking awesome to have a friend who’s not in the family business.

“I’m sorry we got a little deep on you back there,” Dean says when they drop her off, pulling her into another hug.

“What are you talking about?” she murmurs and squeezes him tight. “I’m so glad you told me. Both of you.” She lets him go to pull Cas into a similar hug. “I know you can’t tell me any details, but… just from what I heard, it sounds like a real shitstorm. I’m glad you made it out of it whole.”

“As good as,” Dean murmurs and glances at Cas’s shirt-clad back.

“Happy New Year’s in four days, and I hope you like the present,” Tammi chirps and steps up to her door. “I’ll see you after New Year’s, Deanibaby.”

“See you around, Tambourine,” Dean grins, and Cas blows her a kiss.

Tammi chuckles. “What’d I say, Deani? I guess your man just likes me better than you.”

“You wish,” Dean snorts and pulls Cas close. He kisses the back of Cas’s head and ruffles his hair, before turning to slip back inside his baby. “Bye, Tammi.”

“Bye, guys.” She waves until they’re out of sight – Cas waves back. It’s cold inside the car, but Dean’s warm in his new, awesome, double-o-seven winter coat.

“So,” Dean says and turns down the music. “What’d you think of my story?”

Cas looks over at him. _It’s a fairly simplified version of the truth._

“You’re right about that,” Dean sighs and taps the steering wheel. He feels calm.

_I liked it._

Dean grins. “Figured you might.”

~*~

He feels _tired_ when they get home, parking his girl good and neat. Like telling Tammi took a lot more out of him than he realized, even if it feels nice to have done it. He sighs and feels Cas’s hand on his neck, caressing. “I’m fine. Are you fine?” He glances over and sees Cas nod decisively. “Good. Great. Okay, let’s see if Sammy’s still alive.”

Cas snorts, and they leave Dean’s baby on her assigned parking spot right outside their little house. It’s not covered in snow, but there are a few white flakes in the air, and the cold stings Dean’s cheeks as they walk up to their porch. The door’s unlocked, like it has been all Christmas. There’s always someone around – him, Cas, or Sam – so there hasn’t been a reason to lock. It’s a… good feeling, even if it still freaks him out a little. There’s still a line of salt and iron underneath every threshold and sill – Dean fixed that the first weekend they moved in here – and there’s a Devil’s Trap painted on the ceiling in the living room, now covered in white paint. But he can leave the door unlocked when he’s not home and someone else is. He can leave the Colt with Bobby, and keep his old Beretta hidden right at the back of his bedside drawer. He can… relax, here.

“Sam? Sammy?” His brother doesn’t answer, and Cas peers curiously into the kitchen while Dean checks the bathroom and living room. “Where the hell did he go?” Dean asks out loud. “Did the dog eat him?”

Cas makes a strange snort-coughed laugh behind him, and when Dean turns he’s pointing at the garden-view window.

“Ah. Right.”

Sam is… lying on his back in the middle of their garden. Dean’s a little unsure whether he’s currently being smothered to death or not, but if so, he’s having fun doing it. And so is Turnpike.

“Dean! Cas!” Sam manages to get out when the two of them get out in the garden, and Turnpike briefly abandons her assault to greet them. She doesn’t bark, something Dean’s grateful for, and even as big a ball of fur and joy, she’s pretty mellow. Making a small ‘bwouff’ sound, she plods over to Cas to press as much of her brown-and-grey-haired body against him as she can. Sam groans and gets onto his feet as Cas obediently crouches down to rub Turnpike’s head.

“You alive there, Sammy?” Dean says.

Sam chuckles and gets over to them. “I’m very okay.”

“Hello, girl,” Dean murmurs and pats Turnpike’s flank. With her snout still buried in Cas’s shirt, her wagging tail keeps hitting Dean in the side. She’s sweaty after playing with Sam, her two-year old body thrumming with energy, and yet so much more relaxed than when they got her at the shelter. Dean thinks they’re a good match – and judging by the huge-ass grin on his brother’s face, he’s willing to bet a lot of money that Sam agrees.

Cas mouths words at the Shepherd and she licks his face in reply. Cas sputters, Sam laughs, and Dean cackles right alongside him. He doesn’t see it coming when Cas shoves him, putting enough force behind it that he actually topples over. Cas falls with him, to the moist, cold winter ground, and Sam's laugh only intensifies.

“The fuck, Cas?” Dean says between bouts of chuckles, Cas a squirming form on him. Turnpike is ecstatic by this turn of events, everyone in her new flock playing on the ground with her, and tackles the two of them where they lie. Dean’s stuck – Turnpike’s licking off Cas’s face and Cas is still sprawled on top of him, Sam standing on the sidelines smirking like the bitch he is.

“Can’t breathe,” Dean gasps and Sam cackles, the bastard.

~*~


End file.
